


Sorry!

by Ima_Paris_Sight



Series: Play to Win, But Enjoy the Fun [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), F/F, Fae Robbie Rotten, Glanni and Robbie are brothers, M/M, Sportacus and Ithro are brothers, Zombie Apocalypse, acorns as ammo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ima_Paris_Sight/pseuds/Ima_Paris_Sight
Summary: Robbie and his kids need some supplies when he runs into some people in need
Relationships: Glanni Glæpur & Robbie Rotten, Robbie Rotten & Sportacus, Robbie Rotten & The Kids, Robbie Rotten/Sportacus, Stephanie Meanswell & Sportacus, Stephanie Meanswell/Trixie
Series: Play to Win, But Enjoy the Fun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566493
Kudos: 30





	Sorry!

The smell of buttery batter sizzling on a frying pan wakes the children in the bunker. The only girl of the group, Trixie, heads down the hallway with her back against the wall. She holds two marbles in her slingshot, outstretched in an attack mode. The rest of her ammo sits in a modified fanny pack attached to her waist. She’s wearing a wrinkled, old t-shirt and blue jeans with faded blood spattering. Another child, a boy two years older than her, sneaks out of a room opposite her position. He’s also drawn his weapon in attack. Rather than a slingshot, he’s equipped with a bow and arrow with a quiver held on his back.

His adopted nickname is Stingy, and he wears a similar clothing choice as Trixie, with an added tattered red bow tie around his neck. It has a sentimental value from his life before. As the kids near the opening to the bunker’s makeshift kitchen, two more in their vector move out with weapons drawn. A boy wearing special correction glasses and carrying a crossbow joins a taller boy wearing a beanie and carrying an ax. The younger boy, nicknamed Pixel, is the technician expert of the group and is Stingy’s age. The other, Jives, helps their leader on most stealth missions, and he’s a year older than Pixel.

Jives sets his crossbow aside when the youngest member wakes up and stumbles into him, dragging a bloodstained hammer as a verifiable weapon of choice. The child, Ziggy, is three years younger than Trixie, and he doesn’t remember a time when this wasn’t his life. Jives scoops up Ziggy and recollects his crossbow. Trixie and Stingy sneak out of the corridor and quickly take positions behind a support pillar. Using sign language, they communicate with one another, and Trixie decides to scope the place. She lets out a sigh mixed with relief and disappointment when she identifies the source of their early morning scramble.

“Pancakes, Uncle Robbie?”

Her voice carries, and the others collectively drop their weapons and walk out from hiding. The man in question flinches almost unnoticeably upon hearing her.

“We can’t afford to let them go bad, Tricky.”

“Do we got any blueberries on top?” Ziggy calls out, entering the room.

“Fresh out, Candy Boy.” Robbie tuts, sending a meaningful look toward Jives.

The older boy nods and walks with him into the supply room while the younger kids eat their breakfast.

“We’re going on a raid today.”

Jives blinks in immediate response. For Robbie to be so blunt out of the kids’ earshot, Jives is worried.

“Are we out of stock?”

“I found a clicker in one of our alley traps. They’re closing in. We’ll have to leave half this shit behind, but I’ll need you to raid some nearby camps for handheld weapons, ammo, and some different clothes for the kids. I’ll be searching for some non-perishables and some non-toxic fruits for the younger ones.”

“We’re going to split up?” He raises his eyebrows. They’ve never split up for a raid, out of safety measures.

“We don’t have much time to load up and leave.” Robbie groans. “You’ve been at this nearly five years, Jives. You’re fourteen now. You’ve got this.”

Jives takes in a deep breath before making eye contact and nodding. He gives Robbie a quick, brother-like hug, knowing the man’s aversion to physical contact. When the two return from the room, two sets of eyes belonging to Trixie and Stingy are set on them.

“You’re going out again,” Trixie states accusingly. “That’s why we got pancakes today.”

“Clever girl,” Robbie affirms.

“Are we in danger?” Stingy asks.

“Always.” Robbie grunts, shrugging on a jacket. “You and Tricky are in charge.”

Trixie nods with a frown. Stingy merely pats the affixed bow at his leg. Robbie lets his eyes wave over the kids as though he were afraid that he wouldn’t be coming back. Jives ruffles Ziggy’s hair, collecting his crossbow and Robbie’s aluminum bat before scaling out of the bunker and locking it tight. After the two make sure the other has an extra knife for protection in the boot pocket, Robbie and Jives split up to collect supplies.

Robbie manages twenty minutes in what used to be a perfect napping spot in the park when an arm grips onto his leg. Reflexively, he raises his bat to strike, pausing only minutely in recognition that it is not a child. Identifying necrotic skin and severed tendons appearing through the bushes, Robbie quickly frees his leg and delivers a fatal blow to the head with his bat, flattening the skull and knocking it from the spinal cortex with a perfectly timed swing.

“Damned ankle biters…” Robbie hisses under his breath.

He checks the bushes for any help, but unfortunately, the crawler had been traveling light. The lanky man straightens and keeps an ear to the ground. He discovers a line of bushes growing debatable berries. Deciding to test them at a later date, he begins picking them, placing them in a compartment in his backpack. As he does so, he hears a ruffling from a nearby oak tree. Before he can brandish his bat as a weapon or deflection, he’s hit in the forehead with an offending object. He ducks down to inspect the shell casing, but he instead finds something alarmingly absurd.

“… acorns?”

“Are you friend or foe?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from the tree.

Robbie inches closer, bat dragging behind him. He cautiously looks upward, and he finds a man roughly his age, balanced on a limb with a robin’s nest full of acorns.

“What the fuck are you doing up there?” He hisses.

The man proceeds to pelt him with a couple more acorns. “Friend or foe?”

“Do you know that there are dead people everywhere!?” Robbie growls, difficultly trying to keep quiet. “Why are you so damn childish?”

The other man seems to pout. When he reaches for another acorn, Robbie scowls. He collects Trixie’s spare slingshot from his backpack and hurls the acorns back. The other man nearly loses his balance, eyes wide in shock.

“Is that really your only form of weaponry? Fucking acorns?”

“I have a frying pan in my backpack.” He calls out, voice trembling.

“Are you out here alone?”

He nods. “My daughter is at camp.”

Robbie hems and haws. “How big is your camp? How many people?”

The man carefully climbs down. When he faces Robbie, he finds that he’s about a foot shorter. “Um, it’s a recreation vehicle. And it’s just us.”

“Just you?” Robbie repeats, skepticism showing on his face.

“Well, yes. Stephanie, that’s my daughter, well, it was us and her uncle. Then, her uncle’s girlfriend. A woman who worked at the bank, her son, and my brother. And well, those _things_ got to them. My brother escaped. But he went patrolling last week, and he hasn’t come back.”

“Damn.” Robbie shakes his head in grief. “I got an army of kids at the base. They all lost their folks, and I lost three brothers. Still got one out there I’m struggling to keep optimistic. But he’s got my niece, so you hope for the best when you get depressed.”

The shorter man exhales slowly. “My name’s Sportacus.”

Robbie stares back, from the tight blue bandana around his head to the matching blood-splattered, shredded tennis shoes. “Gym rat?”

He cracks a smile. “Something like that.”

The taller man nods. “Robbie. Help me gather food. We can grab your kid and get on the move. There’s lurkers out here, and I need to get the kids to a better safe haven.”


End file.
